Page 2 of Sinful Obsession

The radio played a soft indie tune, and I hummed along, swaying slightly, trying to shake the unease.

In my rearview mirror, I caught it again—the black Jeep, three cars back, trailing just close enough to be noticed... but not close enough to cause alarm.

It had been behind me for weeks now. Not always the same driver. But always the same pattern.

My pulse quickened, but I forced myself to breathe.It’s nothing,I told myself, gripping the wheel tighter.

I kept driving.

But the Jeep stayed with me, a predator pacing its prey, until the road curved and a massive trailer truck roared into view, swerving erratically across the lanes.

Panic surged, my foot slamming the brake as I yanked the wheel to the right, tires screeching as I veered onto the shoulder.

The trailer’s horn blared, a deafening wail, but my car hit a patch of loose gravel, and the world tilted.

The sedan spun, metal groaning, and plunged off the highway, tumbling down the embankment.

My body slammed against the seatbelt, pain exploding in my shoulder as my head cracked against the window, a sharp sting blooming across my scalp.

Glass shattered, the dashboard lights flickered, and my ribs screamed with each jolt as the car rolled, debris cutting into my arms, blood trickling warm down my temple.

The world spun—a kaleidoscope of pain and metal—until it stopped, the car landing on its side with a sickening crunch.

Darkness swallowed me.

When I opened my eyes, the world felt... wrong.

Too quiet.

I sat up slowly, my head pounding like someone had cracked my skull open and poorly stitched it back together. This wasn’t ahospital. I was on a dusty, sun-faded bed, the scent of mothballs and old wood thick in the air.

I blinked, disoriented, my gaze sweeping the room—faded wallpaper, a creaky rocking chair, a cracked mirror in the corner.

This was my grandfather’s house, tucked away in the woods. The one in upstate New York.

But how? My memories were a fog, fragmented and slippery, like trying to hold water in my hands..

How did I get here?

I scanned the room. This had to be a dream.

My hands trembled in my lap, and that’s when I noticed it—blood. Dried and flaking beneath my fingernails, smeared across my palms like the aftermath of something I couldn’t remember. My breath hitched.

Then I saw the ring.

It sat snug on my left ring finger. Gold, unfamiliar, too tight. Heavy in a way that felt more than physical. I blinked at it, heart pounding, as confusion twisted in my gut.

I wrapped my fingers around it and tugged, twisting and pulling, spit slicking my skin as I tried to force it off. Nothing. It wouldn’t move. It clung to me like it belonged there.

Panic bubbled up, thick and cold in my chest.

The blood. The ring.

What the hell happened to me?

Whose blood was on my hands? And why was I wearing a wedding ring I couldn’t remember putting on?

And then his voice rang in my ears—like an echo from the past.